Crash Into Me
by Jordana Amore
Summary: After failing miserably in Hollywood and realizing Lima has nothing left to offer her, Rachel returns to her true home in NYC. But life in NY has gone on without her and she's forced to start over again. Only this time, things don't come so easily and Rachel finds herself reaching a new humiliating low. An unexpected ally tries to help her rediscover her strength and her true self.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _So I decided to do my own little angsty take on season 6. I know I have a couple of stories in progress that haven't been updated in forever and people have been asking me when I'll get back to those, but truthfully, I'm at a bit of a standstill with my other work and can only say hopefully soon. So while it might not be the best idea to be starting something new when I have unfinished stories to worry about, this new idea popped into my head and I couldn't resist. And who knows, maybe writing this will get me back in the right mindset to finish my other stories._

_As with pretty much all my stories, this story will be dark at times. This first installment is just a brief prologue to set the story up, I'll be adding the first real chapter in a couple of days. It's mostly canon up until the start of season 6 but I do make some changes to certain characters' stories. _

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><p>She had flamed out, just like everyone had predicted she would. They tried to warn her. Her friends, her parents, her teachers, they had all been in agreement that she was making a huge mistake when she dropped out of NYADA to take on Funny Girl full time.<em> She wasn't ready yet. She wasn't mature enough. She didn't have enough experience. She needed a college education to fall back on<em>.

Turns out they had been right. But she didn't care what they thought then and she didn't care what they thought when she decided to leave Funny Girl to pursue a television career in Hollywood. Yes, her heart belonged to the stage, but the glamour of Hollywood was too hard to resist to a girl who never imagined she'd be considered pretty enough for TV. So she dissolved her contract with the producers of Funny Girl, left her friends behind in Brooklyn and took off for California. Of course everyone had wished her luck and told her how happy they were for her, but she knew the truth. She could see it in their eyes, they were expecting her to fail and fall on her face, and boy did she deliver.

After her show _That's So Rache_l bombed, she had tried to go home again. But it only took a few sad weeks in Lima for her to realize her hometown wasn't necessarily her home anymore. Things had changed. McKinley was barely recognizable. Sue had taken over as principal and rid the school of all arts programs. Mr. Schue was gone, now off teaching the soulless automatons of Vocal Adrenaline for more money than McKinley could ever offer him. The Glee club had been permanently disbanded and none of her former friends were around anymore, they were all off living lives of their own in various cities across the country.

Quinn was thriving at Yale and Tina was loving Brown. Mercedes, Santana and Brittany were still on tour and, judging by their Facebook and Instagram posts, having a blast. After achieving brief success as a male model in New York, Sam had returned to his family in Kentucky to spend time with his younger brother and sister and attend community college. Puck had joined the Air Force and was currently finishing up his technical training in Texas. After Kurt and Blaine's fourth or fifth breakup, Blaine decided to leave NYADA and transfer to the theatre program at the University of Michigan. Mike was studying dance in Chicago and Artie was dorming at his film school in California. And of course Finn was gone, but the ache of his loss was still ever present in her heart.

At home, matters weren't much better. Her parents were separated with a divorce on the horizon. Her dad Hiram had already moved out to live with his new boyfriend, a loud mouth real estate agent 15 years his junior, and her daddy Leroy was selling the house so they could pay off their debts. Her dads had hidden the truth from her while she was away, but apparently her parents were having money trouble and eventually the financial strain had led to strain on their relationship. Leroy had been forced to take a paycut at work in order to stay on at his job and her tuition, plus the mortgage and all the other bills, had simply been too much for her dads to manage.

Leroy had found a one bedroom apartment not too far from his office that he'd be moving into once the sale of the house was final, and while he had offered to let Rachel sleep on the couch for as long as she needed, Rachel declined. She couldn't be any more of a burden to her fathers than she had already been. Even if there was any money for them to offer her, she wouldn't take it. They had worked hard to be able to send her to an expensive private school like NYADA and she blew it. She threw it all away and she felt sick at the thought that her parents' marriage had fallen apart because of the strain she put on them. She would support herself, and she'd do so in New York, where she could fall back into the obscurity of a big city and not trouble her fathers.

_That's So Rachel_ may have been a complete and total joke, but since it was a complete and total joke nobody actually watched, she wasn't exactly a household name. In fact, not even her brief but critically acclaimed turn as Fanny on Broadway had been enough to make her known outside of her own inner circle. Sure she occasionally got recognized by the rare Broadway fanatic, but she was still an obscure enough figure to be able to blend back into the hustle and bustle of a city as large as New York, and for that small mercy she was grateful. Never did Rachel Berry expect she'd long for anonymity, but it would be hard enough to get back on her feet as is, she didn't need to do so under public scrutiny. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing no one had watched her show.

Kurt, now in his third year at NYADA, was still living in Brooklyn. He had called off his engagement to Blaine and was more than happy to welcome Rachel back into the loft they had once shared.

On a cold January day, Rachel Berry packed up her favorite pink suitcase, kissed her dads goodbye once again and set off on her journey back home to New York.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: _Thanks to everyone who has checked this story out. I know it's kind of a slow burn, but we'll get to the angst and drama soon enough. _**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2<strong>

Rachel took a taxi from the airport to Bushwick and pulled open the apartment door, which of course was unlocked, with an excited grin.

"Guess who's home!" she called, dropping her suitcase on the floor and throwing up her hands with a flourish.

"Rachel!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly, jumping up from the couch to greet her properly.

"Kurt! It's so good to be home!" Rachel barreled into her roommate's arms and soaked in the comfort of his embrace.

"I can't believe you're really back," Kurt said, tightening the hug affectionately. "I missed you and your craziness."

"I missed you, too! I missed this apartment. I missed New York," Rachel said, pulling out of the hug to survey the loft as if she'd been gone for years instead of merely 8 months. It might not have been too long since she'd been home but there were still some changes she'd need to adapt to. Her bed was gone for one and Kurt had turned her room into a rather impressive design studio/workout space.

"Oh, yeah, about your bed," Kurt started to explain when he saw her eyes land on the space that had previously been her sanctuary. "Blaine had wanted a place for a desk, and I needed space for my outfit storyboard, so we had to get rid of it. And then when Blaine moved out, I had all this space to occupy and you know how I love my aerobics videos," he trailed off.

"Of course," she laughed. It was just a bed, she could easily replace a bed.

"Sorry, I didn't think you'd ever be back. But we can get you a new bed. And until then, you can sleep with me," he said.

"Kurt Hummel, you sly dog, are you trying to get me into bed?" Rachel asked with mock outrage.

"Oh, how well you know me, Rachel Berry." The friends broke off into a fit of giggles and Kurt helped Rachel with her luggage.

Rachel soon began the tedious task of unpacking and set about removing her clothes from her suitcase and hanging them up on the metal clothing rack that was the only piece of furniture that had been salvaged from her room after she moved out. Kurt had been using it to to house his collection of pea coats but he was more than willing to return it to Rachel's side of the curtain when he saw she had no place to hang her clothes.

"We're gonna have to find you some furniture to go with your new bed," Kurt said, eyeing the mostly empty space.

"Definitely," Rachel agreed. She still had the trunk she'd brought along to go through and unpack but she didn't see the point when there was no place to put anything. She'll just have to live out of her luggage until she got some furniture Kurt approved of. She wasn't allowed to make decorative decisions on her own, at least she assumed that rule still applied.

After Rachel had finished hanging up her clothes she joined Kurt in the kitchen for a snack.

"Okay, not to be too much of a hard-ass," Kurt said as he set down a bowl full of grapes on the kitchen table, "but I'm gonna need your half of the rent and utilities by the end of the month. While you were gone Charlie sold the building and the new landlord jacked the rent up. It's $2,200 a month now and I can't pay it on my own. Blaine's parents had been helping out, but obviously that's not happening anymore."

"Where am I supposed to get $1,100, Kurt?!" Rachel exclaimed, nearly choking on the handful of grapes she had just shoved into her mouth.

"It's actually more like $1300 each with utilities," Kurt said.

"$1300?! Who does this new landlord think we are? Billionaires?!"

Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics. "I'm pretty sure there's no billionaires in Bushwick, Rachel. And what are you getting so worked up over? You were a big TV star! Don't you have any money left over from the show?"

"A little but it's not enough," Rachel answered sheepishly. "I only did one episode and you'd be surprised at how little television pays when no one knows who you are. And the rent in LA was really high. And then there were weekly hair and nail appointments, and a gym membership, and tanning and juice cleanses. It's expensive to look like a Hollywood actress!"

"Well I'm sure your parents will be able to cover half like they used to. My dad still does."

Rachel sighed, she didn't feel like explaining her parents' situation to her best friend just yet. "Yeah, I'll figure something out."

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><p>The two friends spent Rachel's first night back in the city in bed huddled under Kurt's comforter drinking wine and watching Netflix.<p>

"I can't believe you still haven't watched Orange is the New Black. You must be like the only person on the planet who hasn't seen it," Kurt said around a mouth full of popcorn.

"I've been meaning to watch but, in case you've forgotten, I've been kind of busy the last year, thank you very much," Rachel said defensively.

"Ok, shush up, pay attention," Kurt said, slapping her arm to get her attention. "That's Alex. She's a hot lesbian drug dealer and she's also super manipulative. She's practically the devil, but in like awesome hipster glasses."

Rachel elbowed her friend and snatched the bowl of popcorn from his lap. "Gees, no need to get physical, I'm paying attention. Hot, manipulative, lesbian, drug dealing devil in glasses. Got it," she said. "Sounds like Santana, well, minus the drug dealing and glasses."

"Right," Kurt agreed. "Now shut up and watch."

"Wait, I thought Piper was engaged to that guy from the American Pie movies?"

"Larry. We hate Larry," Kurt clarified. "And she is engaged to him. These are flashback. Piper dated Alex before Larry and she's still totally in love with Alex even though Alex ruined her life and got her put in jail."

"Oh, so she's bi-sexual," Rachel said thoughtfully.

Kurt shrugged. "If that's what you wanna call it," he said dismissively.

They watched the first three episodes before Rachel drifted off to sleep, her head tucked against Kurt's shoulder and the bowl of popcorn resting between them.

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><p>Just after 6am the next morning, Rachel woke with Kurt's right arm thrown across her chest and popcorn in her hair.<p>

"Kurt, move," she groaned, pushing his arm off her chest and rolling out of the bed sleepily. She padded towards the kitchen, bumping into the new suede accent chair Kurt had purchased in her absence. "Stupid chair," she muttered rubbing her shin. She entered the kitchen and immediately began to scour the small space for the coffee maker. She had left her Keurig when she moved, she was sure of it, but all Kurt had now was some fancy Italian espresso maker that she'd never be able to figure out how to work. "Coffee, coffee, I need coffee," she mumbled to herself as she opened cabinets and drawers in desperate search of her much needed liquid kickstart.

"God, could you be any louder?" Kurt asked from behind her. Rachel jumped, startled by his voice, dropping the pan she had picked up during her search.

"Kurt! You scared me! What are you doing up? You're never awake this early!" Rachel gasped. Her roommate wasn't usually a morning person, she had learned that rather quickly after they first moved in together 3 years ago.

"It's kind of hard to sleep when you're in here banging pots and pans together like it's friggin New Years," Kurt answered.

Rachel looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I was just trying to make some coffee and I can't find my Keurig machine. I know you love your espresso but I don't really drink the stuff. Besides, I'm pretty sure you need a Masters degree in engineering just to work that thing anyway."

"Oh, I threw that out months ago." Kurt informed her.

Rachel deflated. "You threw out my Keurig?"

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I figured you'd left it here because you didn't want it."

"Oh. Of course. I shouldn't have left my stuff around like that. That was inconsiderate of me," she said.

"If you give me an hour to get dressed we can go for coffee," Kurt offered. "There's this great little cafe on-"

"No, it's fine, Kurt," she cut him off. "I'll run down to the deli on the corner and get some myself. It'll only take a second."

She disappeared into her room and came out two minutes later wearing yoga pants, a NYADA sweatshirt and a pair of Ugg boots Kurt hated.

"Do you want anything?" she asked Kurt as she pulled on her coat.

"No, I'm gonna put that engineering degree to good use and make myself some espresso," he answered with a grin.

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><p>Rachel greeted the deli owner with a wide smile. She, Kurt and Santana had been regulars at this deli while they lived together and the owner had come to know them and their orders quite well.<p>

Rachel approached the counter. "Good morning, Edgar. I'll take my usual."

"Miss Rachel. Long time, no see," the older grey haired man returned warmly. "The usual... coffee with skim milk?" he asked, struggling to recall the order he hadn't heard in months.

"Soy," Rachel corrected, irrationally hurt by Edgar's failure to remember her usual order.

After she had paid for her coffee, Rachel left the deli and went for a walk. She had told Kurt she'd be right back but she didn't feel like going back to the loft yet. Everything felt off to her. The apartment was different, she had no space to call her own and she couldn't even navigate it in the dark without busting a shin. And Kurt had practically erased every last trace of her existence from the apartment after she left. She had no musical, no TV show, no school to attend, no job, no bed, no furniture, and no coffee maker. When things in Lima didn't work out she had assumed it was because she wasn't truly home, she was sure New York would be different, better, but now she was starting to wonder if it was even possible to go home again. But she was out of places to run to. She'd have to stay and stick it out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been reading, please let me know what you think. **

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><p>"Kurt, are you sure about this dresser? It doesn't match the vanity. Or the nightstand. None of this furniture matches actually," Rachel mused as she watched Kurt and their neighbor Bill move her newly acquired bedroom furniture into the loft. Kurt had cleared out his stuff and after three weeks of sharing a bed with her best friend, Rachel would finally have a place of her own to rest her head. In addition to the bed, she also now had a dresser, a nightstand, and a vanity to complete the space.<p>

"Yes, I'm sure, Rachel. It's called eclectic design. Trust me, I have an eye for these things," Kurt said.

"I still don't see what was so special about this furniture. I mean, $5,000 for four pieces of furniture? Seems like a bit much," Rachel said worriedly. She really didn't have the money to spend on fancy furniture but Kurt had been so insistent at the store and she was too embarrassed to admit she couldn't afford it.

"They're vintage. And aren't you glad to have a bed of your own? I know I'm getting tired of you hogging all the covers every night. Not to mention you have a body temperature of like 300 degrees. Sleeping next to you is like sleeping next to a furnace."

"Hey, at least I don't grope you in my sleep like you do to me!" Rachel shot back defensively.

"That was one time!" Kurt cried.

"Try six times, at least! For a gay man, you sure do like fondling women's breasts a whole lot more than I'd expect," Rachel said with a roll of her eyes.

"I did not fondle you!" Kurt huffed.

The pair had woken up in awkward positions a few times since Rachel had moved back and started sharing Kurt's bed, much to his horror. Kurt just liked to have something to hold onto when he slept, and since Rachel was creeped out by Bruce, his trusted boyfriend pillow, and wouldn't allow Kurt to take it to bed with them, he must have subconsciously grabbed hold of Rachel in his sleep instead. It's not like he meant to feel up his best friend, but Rachel sure did love bringing it up at any opportunity just to make Kurt squirm.

"Alright, well that's the last of it. I'm just gonna excuse myself now and leave you two to hash this out," their neighbor spoke up, breaking up the squabble.

Rachel rushed over to stop him from leaving. "I'm so sorry about the bickering, Bill! Kurt and I get into little tiffs like this all the time, we're just teasing each other. You don't have to leave just yet. Can I get you some coffee? Or how about a blueberry muffin? They're fresh, Kurt picked them up this morning."

"That's alright," Bill said, offering Rachel a shy smile. "I don't drink coffee but thanks for the offer. I'm just gonna head back down to my place. You two have a nice day. Enjoy the new furniture."

"Thank you so much for your help, Bill. I really do appreciate it," Rachel said sincerely.

"Yes, thanks again Bill," Kurt added. Once the man was gone he turned to Rachel and hissed, "you scared him away with your perverted breast story! He must think we're freaks! Now who's gonna help us when we need to carry something heavy into the apartment?"

Bill was a nice guy in his late 30s who had been already been living in the building when Kurt and Rachel first moved in 3 years ago. He was a divorced electrician whose two kids stayed with him on the weekends. He was always willing to help them out with stuff around the apartment when the super wasn't available, especially when Rachel was around. Kurt suspected Bill had a bit of a thing for Rachel but he never mentioned it to his roommate because if she knew, she'd probably act even weirder than usual and then Bill would get scared and stop helping them out. And Kurt needed someone to change lightbulbs and fix sinks, because he sure as hell wasn't going to do it.

"Hey, you're the pervert, Grabby McGrabbyHands," Rachel shot back playfully.

"Oh please, you love it when I fondle you."

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><p>Rachel and Kurt spent all day setting up her room. They had found space for some of the things Kurt had occupying her room previously, like the desk which was now against the far corner in the living room. But the rest of his stuff, like his outfit storyboard and workout equipment, had to be tucked away under his bed and in various corners of his room.<p>

Rachel smoothed out the black and purple comforter she and Kurt had found at Bed, Bath and Beyond and stood back to admire their handiwork. "Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself," she said with a pleased smile.

"Of course it does. I designed the layout and came up with the color scheme," Kurt agreed.

Rachel shook her head at her friend's lack of modesty with a laugh. "So what do you want to do for dinner?"

"Thai?" Kurt suggested.

"Order in or go out?"

"Out. We've been cooped up all day making your room look fabulous," Kurt answered.

They quickly got cleaned up and took the subway into the city to eat at their favorite Thai place.

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><p>"God, I've missed this place," Rachel practically moaned with her mouth full of noodles. "You just can't get good pad thai in LA. Not like here anyway. And no one in Lima even knows what Thai food is. They probably think it's like stir fried cat or something."<p>

Kurt laughed and nodded in agreement as he shoveled noodles into his mouth.

The pair had a pleasant dinner, laughing and sharing stories. Kurt was thriving at NYADA and as part of his third year work study program, he'd been named the acting arts director at a home for the elderly in Queens. Rachel didn't really understand why Kurt liked spending so much time with old people, but the job seemed to make him happy. Rachel listened intently as Kurt eagerly filled her in on the production of The Sound of Music he was planning with his senior citizens. After Kurt finished telling the story about the fight that broke out between Rose and Silvia over the role of Maria, he turned the attention to Rachel.

"So enough about me, how does it feel being back in the city?" he asked leaning back to sip his diet coke.

Rachel nodded, swallowing her food before she answered. "Good. It's great," she answered unconvincingly.

"You don't sound so sure of that," Kurt said.

"It's just... harder than I thought it would be," Rachel admitted. "Nothing's the same. I have no job, no education. I essentially have to start all over again."

"And you have no one to blame for that but yourself. I told you you should have stayed at NYADA till you graduated. You can't do anything decent without a degree these days," Kurt told her matter-of-factly.

Rachel sighed. She didn't need another lecture about how stupid and shortsighted she had been. "I know it's my fault, Kurt. I'm not blaming anyone else for my mistakes," she said, an edge to her voice. "But I just don't know if I can do it all over again. I can't even find a job and I can't get by on two shifts a week at the diner."

She had hit the streets around the apartment looking for work every day since she arrived back in the city but no restaurants or shops were hiring. She had even gone back to the Spotlight dinner and humiliatingly begged for her old job as a singing waitress back. Gunther had agreed to give her a couple of shifts a week but she knew she wouldn't make nearly enough money for rent and living expenses on tips alone. Her savings were nearly depleted after paying for her new furniture and bedding.

"Sometimes I think coming back here was a mistake," she added after a beat.

"So what are you gonna do? Quit? Run back home to your daddies?" Kurt asked, without a trace of sympathy. "That's just what everyone expects you to do. You gotta stick it out and fight. You can't just pick up and leave whenever something gets hard or boring, Rachel."

"I wasn't planning to," Rachel said. She couldn't run home to her daddies even if she wanted to. "I just didn't expect it to be so hard. I thought things would fall back into place once I got back here, but instead I feel like I'm further from my dream than ever."

"What about putting yourself back out there? Have you even gone on an audition since you've been back?" he asked. "You should at least be able to get a few meetings with your resume."

"It's only been a few weeks. I'm still trying to gain my bearings. I'll start auditioning again as soon as I get on my feet," she answered.

"There's no time like the present."

"I'm not ready yet," she said softly. Rachel knew she had burned a lot of bridges when she left Funny Girl for her TV pilot and she was too scared now to go out and see just how much damage she had done to her career. Sidney, her former producer, had told her she'd never work on stage again if she broke her contract and she was terrified to find out if that was anything more than an empty threat.

"Look, Rach. These are the kinds of experiences that make or break an artist. All the greats struggled and were down on their luck at some point, but they clawed their way back to the top. And that's what you need to do. Think how great this will all sound in your autobiography. To go from small town girl to breakout star to Broadway's biggest flake to Hollywood's biggest flop and then back to the top again! Now that's a story for the ages!" Kurt said excitedly.

"I'm glad my misery excites you," Rachel said, stabbing at her noodles dejectedly.

Kurt chewed his food silently for a moment before speaking again. "Oh, remind me to get the rent check from you when we get home. It's due tomorrow."

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. Her bank account was looking more and more anemic as the days wore on. She had enough for rent but there wouldn't be much left after that. She needed a job and she needed it fast.

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><p>After dinner Kurt and Rachel decided to take a walk "to burn off some of the noodle fat," as Kurt so eloquently phrased it.<p>

"Wait!" Rachel shrieked as they passed a storefront with a sign in the window that caught her eye. She pulled Kurt back to peer into the window of what appeared to be a dance studio. _Rising Star Dance Academy of Manhattan _was written across the window in neat gold lettering.

"Thinking of taking up lessons again?" Kurt asked skeptically.

"No, look, it says 'help wanted'," she pointed out. "Maybe I can get a job here. Rising Star Dance Academy, it sounds perfect for me!"

"Aren't you not a very good dancer?" Kurt asked.

Rachel glared at him. "It says they're looking for someone to teach their pre-school program. I think I'm good enough to teach 3 and 4 year olds, Kurt."

Kurt shot her a look that said he thought otherwise.

"I'll have you know I was an assistant teacher at my old studio in Lima and Miss Tara's star pupil. I'm even better now after surviving two semesters of Cassandra July's torture. I could do this, Kurt," she argued.

Kurt shrugged. "If you say so, but they're closed now."

"I'll come back tomorrow morning and apply!" Rachel said. She was kind of excited. She had a plan now. She wasn't the best dancer but she did enjoy coaching younger kids and she'd be teaching pre-schoolers, how hard could that really be?

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><p>The next morning Rachel got dressed and headed for the subway with a sense of determination. She had spent all night pumping herself up, she was going to get this job as a dance instructor and then she could say she was doing something respectable while she found her way back to Broadway. After all, sharing the gift of dance with young children was as noble a job as one could have and no one would judge her for taking a break from her budding showbiz career to give back to the kids. It would be the perfect place holder for her while she figured out how to get back onto stage. She couldn't still be considered a failure if she was doing something noble and respectable like teaching underprivileged children in the mean time. Sure, the students at the Rising Star Dance Academy of Manhattan probably weren't actually underprivileged, at least not judging by the brief glimpse she got into the posh studio the previous night, but nobody needed to know that.<p>

Rachel reached the dance studio just after 10:00 o'clock in the morning. She hesitated outside for a moment, looking over her resume and re-reading the help wanted sign over and over again to make sure it didn't list any qualifications she lacked. With a deep breath and a brief prep talk, she pulled open the door and walked up to the young woman behind the front desk.

"Excuse me," Rachel said, clearing her throat to get the woman's attention. "Hi," she smiled once the woman looked up at her. "I'm here about the teaching position." The woman proceeded to stare at Rachel like she had two heads. Rachel felt slightly unnerved but pressed on. "There's a flyer in the window. Says you're looking for someone to instruct your pre-k dance program," Rachel elaborated. She'd been on Broadway and TV, asking for a job at some random dance studio in Manhattan shouldn't be causing her this much anxiety.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that," the receptionist replied mildly.

"Ok, well, can I get an application? Or maybe speak to whoever's in charge? I have a lot of experience, I've actually been on Broadway, so I think I have a lot to bring to the table," Rachel smiled.

"We don't have applications. But my boss is in the back prepping for the next class, I'll see if she has time to speak to you."

"That would be great. Thank you." Rachel smiled politely and sat down on the bench in the studio's front hall. It was really quite nice for a dance studio, much nicer than the place she took ballet lessons at as a kid in Lima. The front foyer was this huge open space with mahogany walls and a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Opposite the reception desk there was a long wooden bench for the students' parents to sit on while they waited and dark grey carpet that reminded Rachel of her daddy's old office covered the floor. The place was currently empty so Rachel assumed she'd come between classes. After a couple of minutes the receptionist, who never bothered to introduce herself, came back into the front hall.

"She'll see you now. Go straight through, she's in the office in the back."

Rachel nodded her thanks, hugged her resume to her chest and made her way through the practice room. It was huge, with sky blue walls and floor length mirrors on one side and a ballet barre that ran the length of the wall on the opposite side. Rachel absently ran her hand over the barre, memories of her childhood dance lessons filling her head. She had been such a showoff as a kid, so foolishly self-assured and confident in her abilities. She had actually believed she was a good dancer at one time, until she got to NYADA and had that illusion brutally shattered.

The practice room led into a small changing area and in the far corner of the changing room Rachel spotted the office the receptionist had directed her to. The door to the office was open but the woman inside, the owner Rachel presumed, was hunched over behind her desk looking through a drawer. Only a glimpse of blonde hair visible as Rachel knocked on the open door.

"Yeah, come in," the woman called, her voice slightly muffled.

Rachel stepped just inside the office and thought maybe it'd be easier to sell herself when she didn't actually have to make eye contact with anyone, so she launched right into her pitch. "Hi, my name is Rachel Berry and I'm here about the pre-school dance program instructor position. I studied dance for 12 years back home, including 3 years as an assistant teacher when I was a teenager, and I've completed two semesters of dance instruction at the prestigious New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts."

"Barely."

Rachel recognized her voice before she saw Cassandra July stand up from behind her desk with a wicked grin on her face. Startled, Rachel took a step back and slammed into the office door, dropping her resume in the process. "Miss July," she said, the color draining from her face instantly.

"Little Miss David Schwimmer," Cassie sing-songed. "Never thought I'd see Broadway's Fanny Brice begging for a job as a lowly pre-school level dance instructor."

"This is your studio?" Rachel stammered out, sure she was either about to start hyperventilating or literally drop dead from embarrassment right on the floor of Cassie's office.

"Sure is," Cassie answered with a grin. "Guess things didn't work out so well for you in Hollywood, huh? You know, I'm not too surprised really. Who in their right mind told you you could be on TV looking like that?!"

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake," Rachel said. She turned to leave but Cassie called out to stop her.

"Slow down, Schwim. No need to get so upset. Let me see your resume before you go running on home to your best gay to cry about your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day," Cassie said, her voice dry and mocking.

Against her better judgment, Rachel bent to pick up the piece of paper that had slipped from her grasp and stepped forward to hand it to Cassie. Once she had Rachel's resume in hand, Cassie took a seat behind her desk to look it over.

"When did you open a dance studio?" Rachel asked in a desperate attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Are you still teaching at NYADA?" She fidgeted nervously with her skirt and tried to look like she wasn't absolutely terrified to be standing in front of Cassandra July asking for a job.

Cassie glanced up at her but didn't answer the question. "This resume is pathetic," she said finally. "Twelve years of dance instruction at Tara's Twinkletoes Dance Studio in Lima, Ohio starting from when you were 4. Oh and look, you were appointed Tara's special helper when you were 14!" Cassie mocked.

"You know what, just forget it. Can I please have my resume back?" Rachel said, chastising herself for being stupid enough to think she could do this, or do anything for that matter. She reached for the piece of paper but Cassie pulled it back out of her grasp.

"Hold on a sec, Schwim. Before you go, I just have to ask... what gave you the idea that you could teach a dance class with your limited skill and minimal talent? I mean, you barely scraped by with a passing grade in my class, and now you have the nerve to show up here thinking you're fit to lead a class? Honestly, where do you get this inflated sense of self-confidence and ability? I'd honestly love to know, because it is mind-boggling that a person with your capabilities would think they'd have anything to offer a class full of students."

"They're just pre-schoolers. I could teach pre-schoolers," Rachel said, her voice unusually low. It had been a while since she had been on the receiving end of one of Cassandra July's epic putdowns and Rachel wasn't so sure she strong enough to handle it in her current state.

"No you can't. And this isn't some dinky hole in the wall dance studio in Iowa."

"Ohio," Rachel corrected.

"Whatever," Cassie said, standing up and walking around the desk. "I run a dance _academy, _Schwimmer. I take on only the best students, only the kids who have the potential to be great, and I have an obligation to my students to provide them the best instruction possible, and you honestly think that's you?"

"I didn't know that. I thought it was a regular dance studio," Rachel said, embarrassed by her presumptuousness.

Cassie took a couple of steps towards Rachel, challenging the girl to stand up to her. "And you thought you could teach at just any old dance studio? You don't have the technique, the skill, or the experience. Do you think just anybody can waltz right in off the street and start teaching? Is teaching that much of a joke to you? Those who can't do, teach, right? Is that what you think of all your teachers and instructors over the years? They're just failures who teach because it's so goddamn easy any pint-sized, puffy, Hollywood reject could do it?"

"No. That's not it at all. I respect my teachers. All of them. I just thought I could..."

"Thought what? You'd grace some poor lowly dance studio with your great big Broadway presence? Thought whoever was hiring would be blown away by your brief stint on Broadway and your _awful_ TV show. My God, was that show horrible! I was actually embarrassed for you, Schwim. I felt bad for you when I heard it was cancelled after a devastatingly poor showing in the ratings." Cassie was practically in Rachel's face now, leaning into her with a menacing smile. "I mean to give up a gig as great as Fanny Brice on Broadway to star in the worst hour of television ever produced and then be left with nothing? Now that's gotta hurt! But then you show up here, head as big as ever, thinking you can just walk in and get a position people have actually worked for because you screwed up and threw away the opportunity of the lifetime and now you need a backup plan. Well, I'm sorry, princess, but I would never hire an arrogant, unappreciative, self-centered, egotistical, spoiled brat like you!"

"You know what, I don't need to listen to this. You're not my teacher anymore. Goodbye, Cassie," Rachel snapped, spinning on her heels and bolting for the door.

Rachel left before she could give Cassie the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She had thought she and Cassie were in a good place when she left NYADA. Cassie had seemed to come around to begrudgingly respect her young student's talent and ambition, and Rachel had let go of any resentment she may have had for the harsh way Cassie treated her in class, thankful for the push her former dance teacher had provided. Cassie had even organized an over the top surprise song and dance to send Rachel off to her final callback for Fanny, as was the NYADA tradition. They had parted with a hug and smiles on their faces as Cassie wished her luck. Why would Cassie do all that if she still hated her?

Instead of going straight home, Rachel walked from Mid-Town to the St. James Theatre. The billboards and posters for Funny Girl were still up, as the show was still running successfully. An actress named Megan Marino who had been kicking around Broadway in ensembles and bit parts for a few years had replaced her, and although the new girl's reviews hadn't been as favorable as Rachel's, she was doing a good enough job to keep the show running. Rachel didn't begrudge the show its success, but it would have been a nice confidence booster to see that the show had failed miserably without her. Not only was she un-hireable apparently, she was replaceable too.

* * *

><p>"You get the job?" Kurt asked once she made her way back to the apartment later in the day. He was standing in the kitchen, fussing over something on the stove that smelled delicious.<p>

"No, I didn't. And that smells great," Rachel said, trying to deflect Kurt's questions.

"Aw, I'm sorry, hun. Why not? And thank you. It's a potato basil frittata. I got the recipe from the Barefoot Contessa's website," he answered.

"They had filled the position already. But it's no big deal, I got a few leads for other jobs I'm gonna follow up on next week." Rachel forced herself to smile, hoping Kurt bought the lie. She didn't feel like talking about how Cassandra July had verbally eviscerated her hours earlier at the dance studio. She just wanted to enjoy Kurt's dinner and try not to think about the fact that she barely had enough money in her account to make it through the next month.


End file.
